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1. Birling isn’t mad at Eric for raping daisy but mad he stole money. This shows that capitalism is so cruel that it dehumanises the lower class that are below £50 so reform society to socialism
   
2. This is a war play as during ww1 many capitalist business owners took advantage of the surge in demand for artillery and machinery. So they also took advantage of ww2 but this lead to economic collapse and mass industry closing. This shows greed leads to worse results and using soldiers and human lives as profit leads to even more societal suffering (as seen in the post ww2 recession.
   

This is reflected when the inspector leaves and the birlings celebrate showing they haven’t learnt anything or feel any accountability. Only when the second phone call happens (symboling ww2) do the birlings face the real consequences
This is priestly showing that capitalism will never learn their lesson about and continue to avoid responsibility so society will perpetually suffer in ‘fire blood and anguish’ just like the cyclical structure of the play (starts and needs with announcing an inspector called)The audience relates to these consequences as society suffered exponentially worse as capitalist leaders didn’t help victims of war but instead took advantage of them. Therefore reform to socialism

1. Most students know birling took advantage of Sheila’s engagement for a union with crofts limited for ‘lower costs and higher prices’ as women in Edwardian society were perceived as possessions of their father and husband so could be used for climbing the social ladder.

Yet mrs Birling understands that Sheila has no influence in society apart for her status and outward appearance. This is why Sybil is a ‘rather cold woman’ since she knows women have no power in 1912 patriarchal society so have to give the false allusion they do by acting austere and powerful. She also cleverly teaches Sheila her tactics to have influence and power by acting cold and constantly condemning her saying she ‘shouldn’t say such things’. This isn’t Sybil being a cruel and callous bad mother, but instead acting strict to her child as a loving action to ensure her daughter has the best opportunities in life
In addition, Sybil doesn’t punish Gerald for committing adultery against her daughter. In fact, she’s glad that Gerald returns when she replies to him asking if they don’t mind him coming back with ‘of course not’ revealing she has no negative feeling towards his actions and acts as if she has forgotten what he did. This is because she knows that Gerald is the only way her daughter is going to have any purpose in life. In this patriarchal society Sheila would have no need or influence to anyone, including women. This could be because Sybil herself has had a similar experience with mr Birling as she said ‘men with important work have to spend all their time and energy on their business’. This could show that Sybil is using the euphemism of ‘work’ as she can’t bring herself to accept what Arthur may she done when he wasn’t being attentive to her and instead his ‘business’. The audience feels empathy to her because Sybil understands the significant gender inequality but has to accept that men aren’t faithful. She can’t ‘protest’ as that would physically ruin her life. Women couldn’t get divorces or have any dominance in their marriage so could object to any of their husband’s action. This is why sybil dismisses Gerald’s affair to save her daughter from ruining her life.

1. Women can only express power through clothes. Birling says ‘but- well, a sort of sign or token of their self respect’ this shows that women are objectified to how they present themselves with answers the question to why Sheila got eva fired from Millard’s. Sheila would have appeared less dignified or respected compared to beautiful Eva so she had to get rid of the competition. Patriarchy has such an oppressive grip on women that has manipulated them to believe their appearance is the only symbol of their ‘self respect’

In the aftermath of the cyber upheaval, Alex found a new purpose—defending the digital realm against emerging threats. The once-hidden cybersecurity expert became a beacon of knowledge and a voice for ethical practices in the interconnected world. Interviews and invitations to speak at conferences followed, and Alex embraced the role of a digital guardian, tirelessly advocating for a safer and more transparent cyberspace.
As Alex navigated the aftermath of the conspiracy, the virtual community rallied behind the cause. Online forums became grounds for discussions on digital ethics, privacy, and the responsibility of tech conglomerates. Alex's journey from a lone cybersecurity expert to a symbol of resistance resonated with many who saw the potential for positive change within the interconnected world.
The conglomerate, stripped of its malicious intent, underwent a transformative process. With Alex's guidance, it redirected its focus toward ethical practices, transparency, and safeguarding user data. The once-menacing entity became an advocate for digital responsibility, acknowledging the role it played in the global digital landscape.
In the months that followed, Alex's efforts extended beyond the virtual realm. Collaborating with policymakers, tech leaders, and cybersecurity experts, they crafted new standards and regulations aimed at safeguarding the integrity of digital spaces. The narrative shifted from fear of a looming catastrophe to hope for a future where technology served humanity without compromising ethical principles.
The digital ghost of the conspiracy served as a reminder that the battle for a secure and ethical cyberspace was ongoing. Alex continued to mentor aspiring cybersecurity experts, ensuring that the next generation would be equipped to face the challenges of the interconnected world. Workshops, lectures, and educational initiatives flourished as Alex's impact reached far beyond the initial confines of the tech conglomerate.
As the digital landscape transformed, so did Alex. The once solitary expert found solace in the collective effort to create a safer digital future. The journey from uncovering a digital conspiracy to becoming a catalyst for change became a testament to the power of one individual's determination to make a positive impact on the world.
And so, as Alex reflected on the tumultuous journey, the conglomerate's servers hummed with the harmonious melody of progress. The digital realm, once threatened by shadows, now embraced a new era—a testament to the resilience of those who dared to challenge the status quo and redefine the boundaries of cybersecurity.

Something I've noticed that makes me respect composers a lot is that there is never any opportunity to fight with them because you just...can't. They are untouchable and far above. Victories against them are almost always symbolic rather than resolved with a fight.
It seems that in Neo it was planned that we would fight Hazuki but in the end that didn't happen...but what if we fought against a composer...what do you imagine it would be like? Would the composer use a noise form or base form? Would it even have a life bar? Would it be infinite or would we not be able to empty it completely? What would their attacks be like? I'm curious because the closest thing to fighting one is when Another Neku confronts Hanekoma and he uses a noise form and in the end when Neku wins, Hanekoma is not erased as happens to many reapers and he doesn't even look tired. So it means that he held back, right? Do you think he could continue fighting without problems? He did have a life bar that we managed to empty but even so it's as if nothing happened to him... Maybe he could even assume that noise form again as if nothing had happened... in fact I wonder if when an angel uses a noise form means that they are using a lot of their power or they just do it because it is a rule of the game or something and even if they use it it does not mean that they are using their true abilities...
It is also important to mention that Joshua demonstrates that he can paralyze players without a problem. I imagine that Hanekoma could also have done that at any time against Another Neku...also when Kitaniji and Joshua fuse he seems to become stronger but how exactly does that fusion work? Shouldn't Kitaniji have become almost invincible by being combined with a divine being? Although Joshua also lent his strength to Neku in that final battle and that may be why he managed to win. What do you think? And also, would you respect them less if we faced one and "defeated" it, but like with Hanekoma, it's as if nothing happened to them?

I’ve just learned of this interesting sword via a Facebook post - this thing has been doing the rounds for several years now. The source is an article at online magazine 'La Brujula Verde' entitled 'The sword embedded in the rock of the precipice of Rocamadour for 9 centuries' written by Guillermo Carvajal in Spanish in 2016, then published in 2019 in English, which seems to be what prompted it to go 'viral' to some extent. I'm a few years late but still hoping to nip this one in the bud as far as posting something that the curious can easily find if they care to look. I would link an image of the sword but all images appear on pages with associated bad history and the rules say not to link to that. Anyway...
I saw several people lamenting that the Cluny Museum had taken this treasure down and put it in a museum. For one thing, if a piece of ferrous metal had truly survived 900 years in an exposed rock crevice (the more famous ‘sword in the stone’ at Montesiepi Chapel was at least protected from the elements), it certainly would have required salvage and preservation. However, what the article’s author failed to bother to find out is that this thing was completely fake in the first place, put there to attract tourists (Barber, Arthurian Swords I, Arthurian Literature XXXV, Volume 35, p.14):

Tourists can see [Durendal] fixed in the cliff face above the doorway to the shrine of the Virgin at Rocamadour; but this is a relatively modern feature and the sword is a nondescript nineteenth-century decorative sword of poor workmanship. In 1787 or 1788, a local lord, the Vicomte d'Anterroches, bullied the canons at Rocamadour into agreeing to present the sword then shown to visitors as Durendal - a coarse short dagger, possibly Bronze Age to the prince de Condé, whose collection of antiquities was dispersed at the Revolution. At some point a story was created that Henry the Young King had stolen the original sword when he came to Rocamadour during his rebellion against his father in 1183, but the first printed record of this is in the work of a late nineteenth-century English historian. There is no known connection between Roland and Rocamadour, and even the origins of the idea that Durendal might have been at the shrine are totally obscure.

Barber’s reference for the sword being fake is none other than the Cluny Museum itself, where the now-relic fake ended up (L'épée: usages, mythes et symboles : Paris, Musée de Cluny--Musée national du Moyen Âge, 28 avril-26 septembre 2011, p.97). The Cluny didn’t acquire it to preserve some 900-year-old treasure, they took it because of its significance as an example of how swords are used symbolically. Notably, as they say, pregnant women in the early 20th century would ask that particular fake sword for favours for their unborn children. Now, there has to have been an earlier sword there because Alexis de Valon noted in 1851 that;

...in Rocamadour and its environs, local people revered Durandal, believing that both it and its modern substitute could make childless women conceive.

(Harry Redman, Jr. 1991. The Roland Legend in Nineteenth Century French Literature, University Press of Kentucky, p.104).
Despite Barber’s comment about unknown origins of the Rocamadour 'Durendal' we do in fact know these, back to the early 17th century at least and summarised by Redman as follows:

Writing in 1620, Scipion Dupleix stated that Roland had been interred at St. Romain's and that, according to tradition, his sword had been placed at his head and his horn at his feet. Later, he added, the sword was taken to Rocamadour, while the horn was deposited in St. Seurin's. Mérimée, Inspecteur Général des Monuments Historiques, was in an excellent position to know where such things ought to be, and he thought the sword was still at Rocamadour. Frédéric Mistral was convinced of it. Mérimée's friend Alexis de Valon was not so sure and held that it had been removed from Rocamadour at the time of the French Revolution and replaced by another one not at all resembling it. Prince Lucien had the sword, along with its owner, interred at Roncevaux. For Peyrat, Roland, his sword, and his horn were all buried where the paladin was struck down. Cervantes, we recall, believed that the sword was in the Madrid museum where Quinet claimed to have seen it.

(Harry Redman, Jr. 1991. The Roland Legend in Nineteenth Century French Literature, University Press of Kentucky, p.213). Lots more in that article on the background to a claimed Durendal at Rocamadour prior to the insertion of the fake removed in 2011 (and since replaced by a new fake!).
Note that the sword referenced by Cervantes is an entirely different one in the Real Armería de Madrid, which was never claimed to reside at Rocamadour. So we have two competing 'surviving' Durendals, neither of which are even period, much less anything to do with Roland. This is typical of ‘surviving’ heroic swords which are mostly contemporary to the time when they are first claimed to be original. There's every chance that the Rocamadour sword is a replacement for something much older. Redman speculates that there may have been three swords there prior to 2011 (p.106). Whether any sword once in that rock face dated to Roland's era or could even have been his, we will never know. I suspect it originated as a classic ecceliastical fundraising effort, like Arthur and Guinevere's grave at Glastonbury Abbey. Regardless, the claim at hand is about the sword removed in 2011, and we can be certain that the this was definitively a fake, itself now replaced by a sword that will likely also be assumed as real in future. And if you've been to Rocamadour since 2011, the sword you saw is brand new.
Sources - inline with text/linked.

inferno machine
Machine d'enfer
La "Machine d'enfer" est un terme utilisé pour décrire un objet ou une situation qui est extrêmement puissant, intense ou effrayant. Cette expression est souvent associée à des machines ou des dispositifs qui opèrent à des niveaux extrêmes de vitesse, de température ou de pression, mettant en jeu des risques élevés.
Dans le domaine de la technologie, une Machine d'enfer peut faire référence à une machine ou un ordinateur superpuissant capable d'exécuter des calculs complexes à une vitesse fulgurante. Ces machines sont souvent utilisées pour des tâches intensives telles que le rendu d'images en 3D, la simulation de phénomènes complexes ou le traitement de données massives.
Dans le domaine des sports extrêmes, la Machine d'enfer peut désigner un équipement ou un véhicule qui permet d'atteindre des vitesses vertigineuses ou de réaliser des acrobaties spectaculaires. Les sports tels que le motocross, le ski freestyle ou le surf des neiges peuvent être associés à cette notion de Machine d'enfer en raison des risques élevés qu'ils comportent.
Enfin, dans le domaine de la fiction, la Machine d'enfer est souvent utilisée comme un élément de suspense ou d'action. Que ce soit dans un film, un roman ou un jeu vidéo, la notion de Machine d'enfer peut ajouter une dimension d'excitation et de danger à l'intrigue.
En somme, la "Machine d'enfer" symbolise la puissance, l'intensité et parfois même la peur, à travers divers domaines d'activités et de représentations. Cette expression témoigne de notre fascination pour le potentiel extrême et les limites de la technologie, du sport et de l'imagination humaine.
Appareil infernal
L'appareil infernal, également connu sous le nom de machine de torture, a une longue histoire dans le domaine de la justice et de la punition. Ces dispositifs, conçus pour infliger la souffrance physique la plus extrême, ont été utilisés à travers les âges dans de nombreuses cultures du monde entier.
L'un des exemples les plus célèbres d'un appareil infernal est la guillotine, qui a été largement utilisée en France pendant la Révolution française pour exécuter les condamnés à mort. Cet instrument brutal et efficace a été conçu pour décapiter rapidement les condamnés, provoquant une mort rapide et relativement indolore.
D'autres exemples d'appareils infernaux incluent la roue de la torture, la chaise électrique et le chevalet. Chacun de ces dispositifs était conçu pour infliger des souffrances spécifiques, allant de la décapitation à l'électrocution en passant par la dislocation des membres.
De nos jours, l'utilisation d'appareils infernaux est largement interdite en raison de leur cruauté et de leur inhumanité. Cependant, ces instruments sinistres continuent de susciter l'intérêt et la curiosité en tant que symboles sombres de la justice et de la punition.
En explorant l'histoire des appareils infernaux, on peut mieux comprendre l'évolution de la société et de ses valeurs en matière de châtiment et de traitement des criminels. Bien que ces dispositifs aient été relégués au passé, leur héritage demeure présent dans la conscience collective, rappelant les sombres aspects de la nature humaine.
Engin infernal
L'engin infernal, également connu sous le nom de machine infernale, est un dispositif de torture et d'exécution utilisé au Moyen Âge. Ce sinistre instrument était souvent utilisé pour punir les criminels et les ennemis de l'État. Il se composait généralement d'une structure métallique dotée de pointes, de lames tranchantes ou d'autres éléments destinés à infliger des blessures graves.
L'objectif principal de l'engin infernal était de causer une douleur extrême à la victime, qui pouvait parfois entraîner la mort. Les bourreaux utilisaient cet instrument pour obtenir des aveux ou pour dissuader les autres de commettre des crimes. La brutalité de l'engin infernal en faisait l'une des formes les plus terrifiantes de châtiment de l'époque médiévale.
Bien que l'engin infernal ait été largement utilisé dans le passé, il est aujourd'hui largement considéré comme une pratique barbare et inhumaine. Les sociétés modernes ont adopté des méthodes plus humaines et respectueuses des droits de l'homme pour punir les criminels et maintenir l'ordre public.
En résumé, l'engin infernal est un symbole sombre de l'histoire de la justice et de la punition. Son utilisation brutale et cruelle témoigne des pratiques inhumaines qui ont caractérisé certaines périodes de l'histoire. Aujourd'hui, il est important de se rappeler les erreurs du passé pour garantir un avenir plus juste et respectueux de la dignité de chaque individu.
Mécanisme de l'enfer
Le mécanisme de l'enfer est un concept souvent utilisé dans la littérature et la philosophie pour désigner un processus ou un système qui mène à des conséquences négatives ou destructrices. L'enfer, symbolisant la souffrance et la douleur, est ainsi représenté comme étant enclenché par un mécanisme qui s'auto-alimente pour perpétuer cette souffrance.
Ce concept peut être interprété de différentes manières selon le contexte dans lequel il est évoqué. Il peut symboliser les cercles vicieux dans lesquels les individus peuvent se retrouver piégés, incapables de s'en échapper en raison de la nature même du mécanisme en place. Il peut également renvoyer à des systèmes sociaux ou politiques qui, une fois enclenchés, entraînent des conséquences désastreuses pour les individus qui y sont soumis.
Dans une perspective plus personnelle, le mécanisme de l'enfer peut être vu comme les schémas de pensée ou de comportement qui nous entraînent dans des spirales négatives, amplifiant nos souffrances intérieures et nous éloignant du bonheur et de l'épanouissement. Prendre conscience de ces mécanismes et chercher à les briser peut être le premier pas vers une vie plus équilibrée et plus harmonieuse.
En somme, le mécanisme de l'enfer est un concept puissant qui souligne la nécessité de prendre du recul sur nos actions et nos choix, afin d'éviter de nous laisser entraîner dans des spirales négatives aux conséquences potentiellement dévastatrices.
Dispositif infernal
Le dispositif infernal est un concept qui fait référence à un système ou à un mécanisme complexe qui a des conséquences néfastes ou destructrices. Cette expression est souvent utilisée pour décrire une situation où plusieurs éléments se combinent de manière fatale ou dangereuse.
Dans de nombreux contextes, le dispositif infernal peut être associé à des événements tragiques ou à des catastrophes. Il évoque l'idée d'une spirale infernale où chaque action entraîne des réactions en chaîne incontrôlables et destructrices.
Le terme "dispositif infernal" peut également être utilisé dans un sens plus symbolique pour décrire une situation ou un environnement qui paraît extrêmement dangereux, menaçant ou incontrôlable.
En littérature et au cinéma, le dispositif infernal est souvent un élément central des intrigues, créant un suspense intense et captivant. Il peut s'agir d'une machine diabolique, d'une série d'événements inquiétants ou d'une conspiration mortelle.
Dans la vie réelle, le concept de dispositif infernal peut nous rappeler la fragilité de l'équilibre entre les forces et les éléments qui nous entourent. Il souligne l'importance de la vigilance et de la prévention pour éviter les situations potentiellement catastrophiques.
En fin de compte, le dispositif infernal symbolise la complexité et les dangers du monde dans lequel nous vivons, nous invitant à réfléchir aux conséquences de nos actions et à rester toujours sur nos gardes face aux menaces potentielles qui pourraient survenir.

Just another fun little story idea I had. I am still working on Humans are the violent ones but I like to bounce around and experiment with ideas to see what I really like. I also suck at writing more casual stories, as they give me severe writer's block as I try to map out how to make a scene feel genuine in my head, but I promise I'll update that soon. If you like this story and want to see more, then like and comment. I'll gladly continue this series as well.
Start of Personal Log
Humans don't like being told what to do. They don't like being commanded, put in their place, or snubbed. It was an inexorable, inalienable trait of humans, at least any noteable humans, to go against any authority that they believed was against their interests.
Humanity would not fit amongst the stars. Few ever did. It was a trait of most successful species to be willful, ambitious, and to desire more. But once they reached the stars the new (and simultaneously very old) pecking order either quashed any spirit such species had or simply eradicated them. Countless tomb worlds and diaspora served as painful reminders of what became of the nails that chose to stick out. The hammer of order would always strike. There could be no compromise, the very soul of the authority that held the Jurisdiction together relied on a show of unmatched power, or at least the illusion of item.
In reality, the Jurisdiction was an old, fat, and lazy beast. It filled its belly on the corpses of empires far and wide, and sated its bloodlust on the shattered dreams of hopeful cubs. It had every right to, for none could challenge it: there were no new frontiers to explore, nor were there any other enemies to conquer. The Milky Way, as humans had so strangely dubbed our cradle galaxy, as well as Andromeda, had long since been warred over and settled for millennia before humanity had arrived, bright-eyed and with familiar yet otherwise foolish dreams of cooperation and prosperity. The Jurisdiction did not cooperate, nor did it ensure prosperity. Oh, it claimed it did, but in reality it simply took. The rest was just the peace that came with not being the direct target of the biggest fish in the pond. The humans didn't like that, but they had no choice.
Slavery was a common tribute. The Jurisdiction had no use for other resources: it simply took. No, it wanted those who could facilitate that unequal exchange, those raised in a world where the only morality was the one set by your lord. The Jurisdiction was held together by expectations, obligations, and dury more than any kind of shared dream, so when you were ordered to take you did so without question. Humanity was new: they had no niche or value that set them apart, but they had a penchant for killing and taking, so the Jurisdiction gave them a taste of how the galaxy worked. They killed and they took. The humans didn't like that, but what choice did they have?
Humans were strange. They learned, but not in the way most species learned. Most species learned to adapt in a passive way, to adhere to the world around them. They flowed like water, moving past and around obstacles and confirming to the boxes they were assigned too. Humans didn't confirm, nor did they adapt: they made their circumstances fit their desires. They would not move around obstacles, but rather smash through them, and they refused to stay in one box for too long. The Jurisdiction merely saw them as a particularly loud nuisance, but those who faced their wrath knew better.
It is said that when a beast seeks to make an example, it shall humble its rival by killing it's cubs. Children were one of those universal constants that brought entire communities together: the Sok’klar saw their hatchlings as gifts, shaped by the fruitful currents of the universe in perfect harmony. The Yarrack saw each and every newborn whelp as an uncut gemstone, ready to be shaped into something magical. Humanity oftentimes referred to their offspring as angels, or spirits of unbridled good sent by the gods themselves. Children were seen by most of the galaxy as gifts.
The Jurisdiction saw them as a lever to inflict suffering. It had become quite effective at enacting psychological punishments on those that stood up and spoke out. You dare to disobey? You believe you can speak out? Your gifts shall be taken from you, and you shall be without joy.
Humans didn't like this, but the Jurisdiction would have their pound of flesh, and humankind would kneel. And they did. But humans were patient creatures: most species who retained that trait of willful spit also lacked patience.
I had long since become desensitized to the Jurisdiction’s actions: it was simply how the universe worked now, as if it were a constant akin to gravity. Cruelty was the unspoken rule of this seemingly unending age, where our lives never appeared to move forward or backwards, only lay dormant. The Jurisdiction had been the unyielding authority that ruled the galaxy for thousands of years, venerable yet feared all the same.
And for the longest time I was just another cog in its wheel. My name is Kalnuracht Sedjuur-Noumar VII, and was the scion of the noble house Sedjuur-Noumar. I was born into what most would describe as veiled apathy, living a life that could be attributed to the privileged class of feared scribes that enacted the will of those above. I was an administrator and nothing more. And now I am doomed to be far less than that in the eyes of my former constituents within the endless administration. I am the only scion, as is tradition, and without an heir I am the last of my house, our name to be scrubbed from the records, worthless, meaningless, and forgotten.
I am merely Kalnuracht, nothing else and nothing more. I have seen from their eyes, the eyes of the downtrodden, and it makes my crimes of association with the Jurisdiction feel all the more damning on my worthless soul. I am worthless to the world, and this is my story.
End Personal Log #1
Start of Neural Lace Narrative Log #1
They came from the black like carrion birds in the night, encircling our convoy as if it were a dying animal ready to be picked clean without remorse. There was no warning, no list of demands sent out as civilized peoples did, nor was there either any requirement for unconditional surrender nor chance to parlay, as was done so under letter of marque: this was an unmistakable call for violence and nothing else. They sought to reduce us to slag and scavenge the rest.
So, as one would expect, the entire bridge of the ship was nearing a panicked state. This was not the actions of those practicing civility, but rather the common behaviors of despoiling barbarians, the kind that tore their way through the dark reaches of the galaxy as if they owned it.
“Wayfinder, what do your probes see?” Shouted the ship’s sovereign. He was an older Kar’Rowmach, an amphibious cephalopod species with a venerable history within the Jurisdiction going back thousands of years. Normally one such as him would be above me if it weren't for the fact that I was under the authority of the Jurisdiction’s seal of office. He didn't like me very much, but most of his kind shared the same sentiment.
“All dark, honorable Sovereign: the sensor arrays are wailing but the feedback we're reviewing is beyond incomprehensible,” the wayfinder replied with a certain restrained temper in his voice. The Sok'klar wayfinder swayed gently, his tentacled limbs grasping different metallo-liquid braille output arrays, the liquid gallium flexing and reshaping unnaturally to allow him to to take in multiple different sources of sensory output at once, with the primary navigation computer plugged into the cybernetics surrounding his opaque, gelatinous head and plugging directly into his tube-shaped brain.
The Sovereign cursed in Loskat and pointed to his bridge crew while I simply sat in the back, near the Sovereign’s symbolic throne. “Prepare countermeasures and spool up the warp drive, we cannot allow the amanuensis to be taken! He carries sensitive information that only he can translate and transcribe!”
As the bridge crew nodded and began fiddling with their own systems, I preened my feathered hide anxiously. I wasn't a fighter: us nobles of the cloth were the educated minority above all else, not those who waged war or partook in hard labor. Special cybernetics in my brain allowed me to translate triple-encoded messages that usually took a ducal signet codekey or above to parse, but even without that I was a skilled mathematician and logician. I had terabytes worth of knowledge stored within the hardware installed in my head, all well protected of course, but if I were to die it would still be a waste. I could only imagine the damage any malcontenders could do with it if they were able to get their filthy hands on me.
Suddenly, the ship rocked, and the gallium overhead display began to form crescendos like I'd never seen before. “Sovereign, decks A-3 through C-12 are venting atmosphere and our coolant systems have been obliterated,” the Wayfinder spoke in an almost serene voice, as if he was completely unconcerned by current events. I knew they were simply incapable of tonal displays, but it was unnerving nonetheless. “Once we jump, we will not be able to risk another until the vacuum of the void can reduce temperatures to acceptable levels within the plasma capacitors.”
“Damn them,” the armored nautiloid hissed, his barbed feelers coiling in frustration, “May the currents take them. What are our options? what can we see? This fleet cannot fall to the void today, not with such vital cargo.” My hackles rose lightly at the Kar’Rowmach referred to me as some object rather than an esteemed amanuensis of the Jurisdiction, but I bit my forked tongue. Now was not the time to squabble with the sovereign over who was what and what titles I deserved, not while he was so desperately attempting to keep what semblance of order within his fleet that he had left.
I could not blame the crew for being panicked either: wars were practically mythologized now, having been long since rendered obsolete with the rise of the Jurisdiction, and that felt like an eternity ago. Now, either being levied into or joining a ducal naval force was simply another career, more akin to serving as an officer of the law rather than a fully fledged soldier. Minimal training was required, most of it being the technicals of one's duty rather than any kind of combat conditioning, so expecting a fleet to actually be prepared for a combat scenario in a universe where peace was the norm was laughable.
“We are practically blind, Sovereign,” stated the Sok'klar Wayfinder, “our probes are offline, and shipboard graviton displacement sensory arrays have been rendered unreliable at best.”
“What about the particle emission array? Has there been a spike in radioactivity where we were hit?”
The Wayfinder seemed to think for a second, his gelatinous form flexing and morphing a bit before answering. “Affirmative, a jump from negligible to forty billion becquerels along decks A through E-5 on our starboard side.”
“Torpedoes…” the Sovereign hissed, stroking his barbed feelers, “Human Torpedoes. Only those primitives would rely on crude nuclear warheads.” He then turned to his militant leaders on the ship. “Noddos, Rel’ads: organize your phalanxes and prepare to repel boarders. We are bound to be assailed by those rancorous primates, and I want their skulls piled at my feet if they dare set foot on our ship.”
“Your wish is our command, Sovereign,” the two militant commanders spoke as one. Noddos, a large bipedal with multiple sets of curved spines running down his back, a pair of graceful horns sprouting from his head, and multiple rows of sharp teeth in his snout, bowed first, followed by Rel’ads, a marsupial with long saberteeth and thick fur. They both must have been fierce warriors in their own right to each lead a phalanx. They wore thick, semi-powered armor and held dueling polearms alongside their usual plasma casters, and seemed completely unfazed by the situation we were in. As they stomped out of the brightly lit bridge, I let out a quiet squawk of discontentment. “Sovereign, why haven't we jumped again? We are wasting precious time.”
“I am working on it, you spineless beaurocrat!” He warbled back, his feelers tensing in anger, “besides, it's not as if you're the one who will be spilling blood today, amanuensis, so flatten your wretched beak or I shall weld it shut with a plasma torch.
I was about to reply with something indignant, but the ship rocked again, this time causing the lights to flicker and the air to become… thick. The skin under my feathers began to blister, and I became lightheaded and confused. “Seal the damnable vents, initiate radiation scrubbers, and activate secondary life support!” Shouted the Sovereign, “Their nuclear weapons are rendering the ship inhospitable!”
I coughed up magenta blood accidentally, and I could feel more seeping from under my eyes. Some of the crew was in a similar position, but others were more resistant to radiation than I. The Sok'klar seemed completely at ease as he ran his tentacles across his morphic braille arrays before calmly announcing the ship’s status. “I've regained some control over our probes: ten, twelve, and seventeen are active and fully functional, the rest are either still malfunctioning or permanently inoperable. A rapid rise in localized radiation is also interfering with the detection of graviton displacement; we can't sense photon redirection, thus readings will remain inconclusive.
“Wayfinder, damn you, get me some kind of out here! We're easy prey until we can respond in kind!”
“Negative, something has gone awry with our processing hub, I am attempting to troubleshoot-”
And with that, the Wayfinder’s bulbous head exploded in a cascade of opaque lavender blood, covering the front half of the deck crew like a morbid art piece. Some of the crew screamed and shouted in terror before removing their cranial adaptors and choosing to interact with their displays manually. Others died just as quickly, unable to unplug in time as their brain stems fried or their blood boiled. It was a horrible way to go, having your insides neutralized by your own cybernetics, so I was glad I wasn't connected to the system.
“Cybernetic warfare! All systems are to be considered compromised, switch to manual settings or you'll be killed!”
The lights in the bridge flickered again, and the displays went haywire. The bridge crew, which obviously weren't acquainted with working without being hard-linked into the mainframe, moved at a much slower pace.
“Launch missile pods A through F and set to self-target after five hundred kilometers, then rely on their ballistic coordinates to begin firing broadsides! If we can't see the humans due to their meddling, we'll just have to feel them.” Shouted the Sovereign, “and got me a detailed report on the ship’s diagnostics readings. I need to know if this flagship is still capable of escaping or if we'll have to scuttle it and retreat on another.”
“Acknowledged, Sovereign, launching now,” affirmed another deck officer as he swiped across his own gallium output array. I could hear the dull thunk, thunk, thunk of missiles pushing out of their pods before racing off to their intended targets, then the mechanical whirring as the pods rotated to be reloaded by slaves in the lower decks. I was regaining my bearings as the many horrible sensations of being overwhelmed by radiation poisoning were beginning to subside, but I still felt as if I had been microwaved. The air was stale, the crew was horribly sick as well, and even the sovereign himself seemed to be on his last leg. I was beginning to believe that I might die here.
“Sovereign, a message from the lower decks,” shouted a communications officer, his chitin scraping against itself as he turned quickly, “they're requesting reinforcements, something about being overrun.”
“Impossible,” the Sovereign hissed out in a vain attempt to exude confidence, “We must outnumber the humans, they always go for bigger targets out of arrogance.”
“I've received reports that it's not just humans: the primates seem to make up only a third or so of the assailing force, along with some Phaeldaer and Vrex.”
The commander slammed his clawed hands down on his own output array in a fit of rage, obviously overwhelmed by the circumstances, “Then this wasn't just a typical assault, but something more sinister!” The nautiloid warbled, blood seeping from his shell as the full effects of the radiation took hold, “Get Rel’ads on the line, have him divert all spare lances to the lower decks or else we'll lose the only offensive capabilities we can use.”
“Rel'ads has gone dark, Sovereign, his vitals are critical.”
“Then either get me Rel'ads tail-leader or get me Noddos!” He screamed in rage, “don't give me this nonsense! If we don't pick it up we're all going to die, is that what you want?”
“No, Sovereign, I'm simply overwhelmed-”
“We're all overwhelmed! By the tides, I'm dying of radiation poisoning you nincompoop! Get me something I can work with!”
The officer didn't even acknowledge the Sovereign after that, simply turning back to his display. Eventually, the Sovereign was able to get Noddos on the line.
“Sovereign, two thirds of my phalanxes have been decimated by combat with the primitives and the radiation, the rest are in shambles. We must retreat and fortify elsewhere!”
“Then the ship is compromised! Rel'ads is unresponsive and the lower decks are swarming with intruders. We must evacuate the amanuensis to another ship.”
Just as the Sovereign spoke, I heard several gentle thumps rattle against the bridge’s door, and it made me uneasy. Some of the bridge crew seemed to feel the same, as they looked incredibly nervous and some even drew their sidearms. Just as the sovereign turned to give further orders, the door blew inward with a deafening explosion, followed by shouting and gunfire. Several of the bridge officers were dispatched quickly, brain matter and blood splattering against the delicate electronics. Others were shot in the legs, the torso, or in any other exotic yet non-vital body parts. The humans poured in, brandishing primitive ballistic firearms and jury-rigged energy weapons while wearing scavenged, legion-grade powered armor.
The Sovereign was the next to go, but he wasn't afforded an honorable death. He was shot along the arm with a particularly potent plasma caster, burning off his clawed hand and cauterizing the wound, the acrid smell of roasting chitin filling the already hot and cramped bridge. He fell back against his output array, the gallium reaching new highs and lows as more diagnostics and casualty reports were delivered, and he clutched his stump angrily. “I'll burn every last one of you in the foundries! I'll tie you to stakes, cover you in wax and set you alight! Your screams will be broadcasted all over the galaxy!”
One human warrior stomped up and slammed the butt of his rifle into the sovereign’s face, shattering his facial plates and causing blue blood to splatter across his section of the bridge. “Shut the fuck up, you mutant lobster,” the human said before dragging him by both antennae towards the center of the bridge and receiving a stained breeching axe from one of his comrades. “Emmanuel, start recording. We need proof.”
The other human nodded and pressed a button on his armor before lifting up his gun again. The rest of the humans fanned out, holding everyone else at gunpoint. I tried to get up and sneak out, but a human grabbed me by my neck and nearly wrung it out as he forced me to my knees and pointed a sidearm to my skull. “Get down, you piece of shit, before I blow your brains out too.”
“Damnable primate,” I hissed, but he bashed me in my skull with the base of his sidearm’s grip and sent me sprawling, making my already pounding headache worse. Another human shouted at him in a language I didn't recognize, but he sounded furious. The first brought me back up to my knees again, and I complies with a hiss and a groan, blood still leaking from my eyes and mouth and my world was spinning.
The Sovereign struggled, but he was weak from the radiation poisoning and he couldn't exactly resist on account of his lost arm. The human with the breaching ax kicked the Sovereign down and forced him to kneel before lifting up the breeching ax and splitting his chitinous head down the middle with one powerful swing, sending more blood and brains across the floor. “Execution confirmed, take his antennae just in case and we've got ourselves a bounty. Now all we need is that ugly cat’s teeth and the fat hedgehog-thing’s grimy spines and we'll be in business. Although, they do have skulls… we might as well just take their heads.”
The real horror of the situation dawned on me at that moment: they were going to kill us all, or maybe worse. They mentioned a bounty for the commanders, and multiple of the higher ranking ship officers were already dead, their brains splattered against the walls or their bodies torn apart by gunfire. I wasn't dead yet, but that didn't mean much since I wasn't an immediate threat.
“Alright, round them up and bring all the grunts to the hanger bay, then kill the rest,” the leader of the humans said in such a lackadaisical manner that his complete disregard for life almost made me sick… almost. I had seen worse from the Jurisdiction before, but usually that was from me delivering some kind of ordered judgment on a world that had sinned against order. I might have simply been the messenger, but I had seen many of the outcomes. “And make sure to collect whatever proof of bounties you can, we'll need to deliver them to the office to get cashed out. Don't let this be a repeat of last time where Juarez fucking forgot to take a few heads and it ended up cutting our profits in half, the fucking retard.”
Some of the humans chuckled at that as they dragged more of the senior officers away, out of the room and into the hall,where I heard gunshots. The rest of the bridge crew froze in place, different fear instincts kicking in. The remaining Sok'klar corralled together into what seemed to be a singular, semi-congealed mass as if to try and trick the humans into believing that they were much bigger and much more threatening than they actually were. The one Thei’chi on the bridge, an ensign who had clearly thought this would be a simple mission, bore her curved fangs at the humans and growled as they approached, her hackles completely vertical and her eyes dilated. They quickly muzzled and bound her before beating her over the head with a gun stock, sending her sprawling onto the ground. Many others simply cooperated, eyes wide and yet simultaneously empty, as if they couldn't quite process that the ship had been taken and the commanding officers were being executed as the rest were escorted to the hangar.
“Get the damn messenger down to the hanger as well, we need whatever data's in his ugly lizard head, then we can decide on what to do with him.”
I spat at him in spite, as if to try and seem brave, but it was clearly an empty gesture. “You won't get anything, primate! You couldn't possibly crack the encryption!”
The human holding me seemed to wind up for another swing, but the commanding officer simply held up his hand to stop my tormentor before strolling over to me. He knelt down and removed his helmet, revealing a beige-colored face covered in scars, wiry black hair cut down to the scalp, and multiple tattoos. “You're really fucking mouthy for a hostage,” he said before punching me across my beak faster than I could register. I heard a sharp crack as his fist connected, and my head spun again as the metallic taste of blood pooled into my mouth. “I'd advise you to shut up, but I'm sure you won't listen: you aristocratic types are so full of yourselves. Maybe I should have you flogged in the public square until your vocal chords give out once we rip those cybernetics from your head, huh? How's that sound?”
“It won't matter… it won't change anything… the Jurisdiction will hunt you down.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it will happen for some time: they really suck at doing anything that requires effort, even when they're mad enough. They just keep sending their rabid lapdogs to try and smoke us out, and they always end up full of holes,” the human officer said with a smirk, his yellowish-white teeth and green eyes sending shivers down my spine as he drew his knife. “They're just horrible at their job, you know? You've all gotten so lazy and incompetent after being able to just take what you want without resistance, and now that you've met people who are angry and crazy enough to fight back you act as if we're committing some grave injustice,” he placed the knife against my throat, the flat just underneath my now bent beak, “No, we just took a few pages out of your book, ‘cept we've got standards. No kids, for one…” he seemed to look off into the distance as his sneer deepened, “but it's more than that, we don't attack the defenseless in general and we still win against you all in fair fights.”
I went to say something else snarky, but he quickly grabbed my thin tongue with his fingers and yanked it out, blood from my mouth pulling to the floor as he held the blade of his knife against it. “No no, none of that. Say one more thing and I'll cut that rancid little tongue of yours out of your mouth and feed it to you,” he hissed at me, pressing the blade down just hard enough to draw blood. “Do you know what it's like to see a planet turn into a tomb?" he asked me, gritting his teeth, “Do you know what it's like to see everything you've ever known crumble to ash and glass, all the life and the green stripped away leaving nothing but bones? I do. I've seen it happen to countless worlds, and my grandfather always told me stories of how you bastards did it to Earth. He still prays in its direction five times a day, to Mecca, but he knows the Kaaba is gone now, or maybe it's still there, buried in the bones of those who sought refuge there.”
I didn't care for the human’s nonsensical beliefs, but I did care to correct him. “I've seen it before, and I'll see it again. And so will you, it's inevitable. The Jurisdiction will always have its judgment fulfilled, there is no alternative.”
“One day, I hope we can rectify that,” he said, then he sheathed his knife and slammed my head against the metal floor with enough force to nearly knock me out. As I lost consciousness, I could hear him speak. “Take him to the Chop Doc, and make sure the cybernetics don't get damaged: they're supposedly more valuable than any bounty on this ship.”
Warning: Severe radiation poisoning detected. Flush system immediately.
Warning: Neural Lace removal detected, chance of neurological damage high. Proceeded with caution.

Couldn’t post this on the original subreddit I wrote it for since it breaks their rules about discussing relationships, so I’m gonna post it here instead.
I, (18F) have recently gotten a job and made friends with a girl we will call Jessica (18F) who I recently started clubbing with. We’ve only been friends for about a month and she brings along quite a few long term friends when we go out.
Where it gets complicated is when her friend (18?M) was introduced to me last weekend. Let’s call him Sebastian. I thought he was attractive, but after she told me she was kind of crushing on him I decided I was definitely not going to make any moves on him. The only part that confused me was that same night is when she decided to fully drop her ex since she was still talking to him and trying to get back together up until that point. I don’t know if she’s over him fully even now since the breakup is really fresh and they were together for over a year from what I remember. Because of the situation with her ex, I didn’t think she liked Sebastian THAT much, just kind of thought he was hot that night. Even so, I wasn’t gonna make any moves since I had just met him and didn’t know anything about him yet.
Later that night, Jessica came up to me and looked kind of sad, but not in a very serious way. Like putting on a joke sad face like an, “Aw I’m so bummed!” kind of expression. She said that Sebastian told her he thought I was hot, but I reassured her that if I was his type then the chances of her being his type was high, and that I wasn’t interested anyways. Looking back, me and her don’t necessarily have the same style. I get branded as “emo” by the way I dress and do my makeup and she is kind of borderline alternative but nothing that would make her look out of place, she just doesn’t dress boring. Her and I are also both bi and joke flirted with each other for most of the night after that conversation. I am also the kind of person to make out with people at the club which I know is definitely not for everyone but I ended up getting with a few people that night, which 2 of them were seen by Sebastian when I was dancing with them, so I thought for sure he would lose interest and go for Jessica instead.
Everything was great with Jessica at work after this and we got even closer. Last night we went out again and predrank together, so we were flirting before we even left to go to the club. There were even more of her friends last night that came and I met another guy who we will call George (19???M) not exactly sure how old he is but still definitely in the age range of the group. He immediately took interest in me, but I think most people who were there noticed both him and Sebastian flirting with me. We were also all pretty drunk at this point. I ended up making out with Jessica in front of Sebastian and George MULTIPLE TIMES, but somehow everyone pieced it together that Jessica was crushing on Sebastian.
As the night went on, Sebastian and George were both talking to me more and more. I was definitely getting along very well with both of them but could see that Jessica was getting more and more distant. I also have autism and have been told by my friends that I have a very flirtatious personality, but I genuinely don’t always realise when I’m flirting because me trying to be nice can come across that way, which I know is a struggle for other autistic people I’ve met. I also don’t always know when someone is flirting with me. Let’s just say when I’m drunk my “flirtatious personality” is amplified by A LOT. Every time I was speaking with George, Jessica was encouraging me and asking me if I was interested, which I just replied, “I don’t know.” which was true. Another one of my autistic traits is struggling with knowing whether my feelings for others are platonic or romantic or even sexual. Half the time I genuinely have no clue how I feel about someone.
George’s flirting was also a lot more obvious than Sebastian’s. Me and Sebastian were mostly talking about Radiohead because we both listen to him, which I could tell made Jessica feel really jealous. That wasn’t my intention, I was just having a general conversation. George on the other hand was talking about how his type was emo girls and saying things like “I can fix her” to me. I think my flirting with Jessica was the most obvious since it was intentional and we were both flirting with each other. One of their mutual friends came up to Sebastian when him and I were talking and told him, “Jessica is getting really jealous.” This confused him heaps since I guess he was the only one who didn’t know she liked him. He asked why and I said “It’s because you’re talking to me.” I got super overwhelmed and felt like I had ruined the night for everyone so I got up from our table and stood off to the side trying to calm down. I called Jessica over and gave her a big hug asking if she was okay because she looked super down. She said she was genuinely fine and became all smiley again, so we all went back to the dance floor.
I saw a guy I had made out with a few times at this club and we started dancing together. We ended up making out again and when I went back to the group Jessica seemed to have cheered up. That was until Sebastian started talking to me and then after a bit she had moved away from me with the other girls and wouldn’t even look at me when I tried dancing with her or talking to her. When the place closed and we had to leave she didn’t speak to me once and left without saying bye to me. Sebastian was supposed to be going with her but she left him too, so Sebastian, George and I were all stood there and I felt so bad. I was so drunk at this point and just started freaking out. Both of them tried calming me down and asking what happened. I was still panicking and saying how Jessica hates me and will never speak to me again and I’ve ruined everything. The part I probably shouldn’t have said was that she’s gonna hate me forever because I think Sebastian’s hot and she thinks Sebastian’s hot but according to her Sebastian thinks him hot but also I think she’s hot and everyone’s hot so blah blah blah. Basically I just freaked out and was way too honest. They both reassured me it would be fine and she’d get over it in the morning and Sebastian said he’d fix it and give her a kiss or something.
Skip to today, I texted her when I woke up asking her how she was feeling and she was super dry which isn’t like her at all so I apologised saying I genuinely didn’t mean for any of it and again she was dry and stopped replying to me. Sebastian also messaged me saying it’s all fine and she’s talking to him like normal as if no issues happened, so now I know she’s just really upset with me. I honestly feel like a terrible person because even though nothing happened between me and Sebastian I feel like I completely ruined my friendship with Jessica and now I have to go to work tomorrow which she will probably ignore me at even though all I want to do is talk it through. I honestly feel like it’s all my fault so how do I mend our friendship?

You're going to begin your submission for the contest when you see tomorrow's post, right? Because these are a few important considerations to be making as you start the process tomorrow! Good luck!
We continue to post tools for this even once it begins. Your entery is due by 11:59pm on January 31st! No later than that will be acceptable!

1. Protagonist's Identity:

• Who is the protagonist, [Protagonist], and what makes them uniquely suited for an unconventional response to adversity?
  
• What are [Protagonist]'s defining traits, both apparent and hidden?
  

1. Adversarial Force:

• Who or what is the antagonist, [Antagonist], and how do their challenges defy conventional expectations?
  
• What motivates [Antagonist] to confront [Protagonist] in such unorthodox ways?
  

1. Fictional Location:

• Describe the fantastical realm of [Fictional Location]. What are its unique features and challenges?
  
• How does the setting of [Fictional Location] contribute to the unfolding of the story?
  

1. Temporal Setting:

• In what era is the story set? How does this era differ from conventional timelines?
  
• How do the unconventional aspects of the era impact both the story and the characters?
  

1. Inner Dialogue:

• Does [Protagonist] have an inner self or conscience that plays a significant role in their decision-making?
  
• How does this inner dialogue manifest, and what role does it play in [Protagonist]'s responses to adversity?
  

1. Love Story Arc:

• Who is [Protagonist]'s love interest, and what draws them to each other?
  
• How does the love story arc intertwine with the main plot, and what challenges do they face?
  

1. Conflict Resolution:

• How does [Protagonist] ultimately resolve the conflicts with [Antagonist]?
  
• What compromises or unexpected resolutions contribute to the story's conclusion?
  

1. Character Development:

• How does [Protagonist] evolve throughout the narrative, both emotionally and in terms of their abilities?
  
• In what ways do the challenges shape [Protagonist]'s character development?
  

1. Symbolic Elements:

• Are there symbolic elements in the story, such as recurring motifs, objects, or themes?
  
• How do these symbolic elements add depth to the narrative and characters?
  

1. Moral Dilemmas:

- What moral dilemmas does [Protagonist] face, and how do their unconventional choices influence the story's ethical landscape? - In what ways do these dilemmas contribute to the overall theme of the narrative? 

1. Unconventional Choices:

- Provide examples of [Protagonist]'s unconventional responses to adversity. - How do these choices set the tone for the story and distinguish [Protagonist] from conventional protagonists? 

1. Motivations and Goals:

- What drives [Protagonist] to confront [Antagonist], and what are their ultimate goals? - How do these motivations influence [Protagonist]'s decisions and actions throughout the story? 

1. Twists and Surprises:

- Are there unexpected twists or surprises in the plot that challenge both characters and readers? - How do these elements contribute to the overall narrative structure? 

1. Cultural Influences:

- Are there cultural elements within [Fictional Location] that influence the characters' perspectives and actions? - How does cultural diversity enhance the richness of the story? 

1. Relationship Dynamics:

- Describe the relationships between [Protagonist] and other key characters. - How do these dynamics contribute to the overall story and character interactions? 

1. Historical Context:

- How does the era's unconventional nature impact historical elements within the story? - Are there historical events or changes unique to this timeline that influence the characters' lives? 

1. Foreshadowing:

- Are there instances of foreshadowing in the narrative, hinting at future events or revelations? - How do these subtle clues contribute to the story's overall suspense and intrigue? 

1. Parallel Narratives:

- Does the story explore parallel narratives or subplots? If so, how do they intersect with the main plot? - What purpose do these parallel narratives serve in enhancing the overall storytelling experience? 

1. Narrative Tone:

- Describe the tone of the story—Is it whimsical, poetic, dark, or a blend of various tones? - How does the narrative tone align with [Protagonist]'s character and the overall atmosphere of the tale? 

1. Open-Ended Possibilities:

- Does the resolution of the story leave room for open-ended possibilities or hints at potential future developments? - How might the events of this short story set the stage for a longer, novel-length exploration of [Protagonist]'s journey? 

These questions aim to guide you in fleshing out the intricacies of the story and characters, allowing for a more detailed and nuanced narrative.

"And I looked back to see the voice that spoke to me; and looking around I saw seven golden candlesticks, And in the midst of the seven candlesticks the likeness of the Son of man, clothed in a long robe, and girt about his chest with a golden belt. And His head and hair were white like white wool, like snow; and His eyes like a flame of fire; And His feet are like bronze when melted in a furnace; and His voice like the roar of many waters; And He held in His right hand seven stars, and from His mouth issued a sword sharp on both sides, and His face was like the sun shining in its power. And when I saw Him, I fell at His feet as if dead, and He laid His right hand on saying to me: Fear not, I am the First and the Last."
Rev. 1:12-17
John heard a voice behind him and when he turned around he saw a vision of the glorified Lord Jesus Christ who is the Lord and head of the church.
"... Christ is the head of the church,"
Eph. 5:23
However, let's go in order. When John turned around, he first saw seven candlesticks, "and looking around I saw seven golden candlesticks". First, let's see why "seven candlesticks". verse.
"and the seven candlesticks which you saw are seven churches."
Rev. 1:20
So John sees a vision of the church which is represented as a candlestick. These candlesticks were made of gold and could be transferred from one place to another olive oil was put in them and they served to light. The fact that they are made of gold speaks of indestructibility and the same John writes, "seven golden candlesticks" and the Lord said that the church is indestructible, so the symbolism is clear.
"And I also say to you: you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it."
Matt. 16:18
We saw that the candlesticks were used to give light and here the symbolism is very clear, in this corrupt and dark world the church should shine because it has knowledge that is from the Lord that shines compared to what Satan and the world offer. In Matthew we can read about these topics:
"You are a vision to the world; a city cannot be hidden when it stands on a mountain. Nor is a candle lit and put under a judge, but on a candlestick, and it gives light to all who are in the house. So that your light shines before people, so that they can see your good deeds and glorify your Father who is in heaven."
Mt. 5:14-16
And now John says, "And amid the seven lampstands as the Son of Man" Since John last saw the Lord Jesus, many years have passed, even about 60, and now he sees a glorified Jesus in the middle of the church, as he had not seen him before. John saw Him as a man. while he was on earth and now he is both man and God, the God-man, and in the middle of the church because he promised it.
"I will not leave you destitute; I will come to you"
John 14:18
,, and here I am with you all the days until the end of the century. Amen."
Matt. 28:20
Here is what else was said about the relationship between God the Father, Jesus and the church:
"Whoever has my commandments and keeps them, he is the one who loves me; and whoever has love for me, my Father will have love for him; and I will have love for him, and I will speak to him myself"
John 14:21
"Whoever loves me will keep my word; and my Father will have love for him; and we will come to him, and we will dwell in him."
John 14:23
Although they killed Jesus, He is alive in the midst of His church and gives it the power to shine in the darkness, and this is possible because every member of the church can say:
"And I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. And now that I live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, whom I loved, and who gave himself for me."
Gal. 2:20
,, dressed in a long robe, and girded across the chest with a golden belt." Long robes were worn by kings, prophets and high priests in the Old Testament. Here Jesus is probably represented in the high priest's robe, and we conclude that based on the verses:
"Having, therefore, a great High Priest, who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the son of God, let us hold on to confession. Because we do not have a High Priest who cannot suffer with our weaknesses, but who has been tempted in everything like us, except for sin."
Hebrews 4:14-15
Jesus went through suffering and was tempted far more than we are and then he triumphantly took his high priestly robe and now we see that he is among the church he loves because he offered his blood for her.
"who loves us and washes us from our sins with his blood"
Rev. 1:5
We further see that he has a gold belt on his chest, the belt is a symbol of the winner and gold also symbolizes victory and the winner, we know that today the winners in various sports receive gold medals and in some also belts that are proof that they are winners and we do not have athletes here but the Lord Jesus Christ who defeated sin and death and who redeemed his church and with them can "celebrate the victory" in sports jargon.
"And His head and hair were white like white wool, like snow." Here John describes Christ's holiness and purity, which is "white".
this is used here so that we can understand at least a little part of the fullness, part of the holiness of God which is not soiled or stained by anything, and "white" is the best description. In support of this is a part of the verses that talk about the blinding light which again is "white" " so we see that this is a symbolic representation of God's eternal holiness. This is what happened to Paul as a result of God's holiness.
"At noon, king, I saw on the way from the sky a light greater than the brightness of the sun, which illuminated me and those who were going with me."
Acts 26:13
"And when I became blind from the strong light of it, those who were with me led me by the hand, and I came to Damascus."
Acts 22:11
"and His eyes are like a flame of fire" The Lord is with the church, but He watches and sees everything that happens in the church:
"whose eyes are like a flame of fire"
Rev. 2:18
"And there is no substance unknown before Him, but everything is naked and exposed before the eyes of the One to whom we speak."
Hebrews 4:13
and is ready to burn everything impure in the church. We know from experience that during burning, all objects that are not, say, metal or stone, are burned and only they "survive" the flame, while something that is paper, cloth, grass or something else with a low at the point of ignition they are turned into ashes, that's how all the impurities must be burned here and the church must be as clean as "metal" that passed through the flame where only the corrosion was burned, which means that the metal has become cleaner.
The church should be clean, and it is written about that:
"Because I am jealous for you with God's zeal, because I vowed you to one husband, to bring a pure girl before Christ."
2 Cor.11:2
,,...Christ loves the church, and gave himself up for her, to avenge her by cleansing her by bathing in the word; To put it in a glorious church, which has no blemish or wrinkle, or anything like that, but that it should be holy and without blemish."
Eph. 5:25-27
"And His feet are like bronze when melted in a furnace;" This refers to God's chastisement for sin. We have probably all had the opportunity to see what molten metal looks like, either in a factory or we have watched videos of lava burning from a volcano and moving on he burns and burns all sides and everything in front of him so that nothing remains. Something similar is also here, Lord Jesus is very merciful and full of grace, but he is also a flame that can trample and burn everything in front of him.
"and He treads on the cauldron of wine and hearts and the wrath of God Almighty"
Rev. 19:15
,, and His voice is like the roar of many waters; "This is the voice of authority, the voice of God who is speaking and you can only hear him because when you are next to a big water or a waterfall of roaring water you cannot hear anything else. Here it is the voice of Jesus speaking to the church and to all of us through his word and revelation by the Holy Spirit .
"And he held in his right hand seven stars," We have an explanation of what these stars are in the following verse:
"seven stars are the angels of the seven churches"
Rev. 1:20
These seven "stars" are the preachers of the seven churches and this testifies that the churches and the preachers are under the control of the Lord Jesus and He holds them in his right hand. This does not apply to angels because nowhere are angels leaders in churches, angels have other tasks while they are leaders in the churches of the people.
"Thus says He who holds seven stars in His right hand"
Rev. 2:1
"And out of His mouth came a sword sharp on both sides," and here we have verses that refer to chastisement and judgment because Jesus defends His church and opposes the Gentiles who tried and will try as long as they can to destroy the Church and the work God's. They are followed by a warning:
"And out of His mouth came a sharp sword, to slay the Gentiles with it;"
Rev. 19:15
..And to the angel of the church of Pergamum write: Thus says He who has a two-edged sword:"
Rev. 2:12
but there is not only judgment but before that mercy, the last warning:
"Repent therefore; if not, I will come to you soon, and I will fight with them with the sword of my mouth."
Rev. 2:16
"and His face was like the sun shining in its power" This is a complete continuation of the description that was earlier and it referred to the hair and eyes. If the hair and eyes were as in the description earlier, it is logical that the face should be like that, that the face shines. The face of Jesus as the head of the church shines in the church, but Jesus also wants to shine through the church that is in the world and in that way so that the Gentiles see the power of God and come to repentance. The Lord is patiently waiting.
"The Lord is not late with His promise, as some think He is late, but He is patient with us, because He will not let anyone perish, but all come to repentance"
2 Peter 3:9
"And when I saw Him, I fell at His feet as if dead..." John, at this announcement of the Lord Jesus, "was shocked, speechless" maybe he was so scared that he simply fell as if dead when he saw part of the astonishing glory of the Lord Jesus Christ.

**Prompt 15:
Layogenic (Tagalog) - Appearing More Attractive from a Distance**

1. Immerse your character in a moment when they are perceived as layogenic, appearing more attractive from a distance. Explore the external factors, such as physical appearance or demeanor, that contribute to this distant allure.
   
2. Delve into your character's internal reactions to being layogenic, considering how it impacts their self-esteem, self-image, and the dynamics of their relationships.
   
3. Explore the expectations and assumptions that others may have when encountering your character from afar. How do these external perceptions shape their interactions and connections with others?
   
4. Reflect on how your character becomes aware of their layogenic appeal. Does it happen gradually over time, or is there a specific moment when they realize the impact of their distant allure?
   
5. Consider the moments when your character grapples with the dissonance between their distant allure and close-up reality. How does this internal conflict influence their authenticity and sense of self?
   
6. Delve into your character's relationships, both romantic and platonic, and explore how the layogenic effect impacts the dynamics of connection and intimacy.
   
7. Reflect on societal or cultural standards of beauty that contribute to the layogenic effect. How does your character navigate these expectations, and do they conform to or challenge prevailing norms?
   
8. Explore whether your character embraces or resents their layogenic allure. How does it become a source of empowerment or vulnerability in different aspects of their life?
   
9. Consider how layogenic encounters shape your character's personal growth and development, exploring whether it becomes a recurring theme or a transformative element in their journey.
   
10. Envision a key moment where the layogenic effect becomes a focal point, driving your character's actions, influencing their relationships, or contributing to a significant turning point in their narrative.
    

**Prompt 16:
Yūgen (Japanese) - Profound Awareness of the Universe's Enigmatic Depths**

1. Immerse your character in a moment of yūgen, experiencing a profound awareness of the universe's enigmatic depths. Explore the setting, emotions, and contemplations that accompany this deep spiritual connection.
   
2. Delve into your character's understanding of yūgen and how it shapes their perception of the mysteries and beauty hidden within the universe. What philosophical or spiritual beliefs contribute to their sense of awe?
   
3. Explore the impact of yūgen on your character's daily life. How does this profound awareness influence their interactions, decisions, and overall mindset?
   
4. Reflect on the specific elements in nature or the cosmos that evoke yūgen for your character. Are there recurring symbols or phenomena that deepen their connection to the enigmatic depths?
   
5. Consider moments of solitude or introspection where yūgen becomes particularly pronounced. How does your character navigate the vastness of the universe within their own consciousness?
   
6. Delve into the relationships in your character's life that amplify their experience of yūgen. Are there individuals who share this spiritual connection, and how does it shape their connections?
   
7. Explore the ways in which cultural or religious beliefs influence your character's interpretation of yūgen. How do these external factors contribute to the richness and complexity of their experience?
   
8. Reflect on whether yūgen becomes a source of solace or existential contemplation for your character. How do they find meaning and purpose in the face of the universe's vast mysteries?
   
9. Consider how yūgen intersects with your character's personal growth and development. Does it become a guiding force, leading them toward deeper self-discovery and understanding?
   
10. Envision a pivotal scene where yūgen takes center stage, influencing your character's actions, relationships, or contributing to a significant turning point in their narrative.
    

In the heart of Chicago, where the skyline pierced the heavens and the streets pulsed with life, there lived a man named Victor Kane. At 26 years old and a startling 6'3" in stature, Victor commanded attention effortlessly. His piercing gaze seemed to see through the very fabric of one's soul, and his knowing, flirtatious smirk hinted at secrets that few could ever fathom. Victor was a man of many faces, each one carefully crafted and expertly worn to blend into any situation, like a chameleon adapting to its surroundings. Each interaction with another human was as if it were another painting to be hung in the Art Institute of Chicago, a masterpiece of social maneuvering and charm.
To most, he appeared unremarkable, perhaps even a bit dim, an illusion he maintained with meticulous precision. Yet beneath this facade lay a mind as sharp as a dagger, honed by years of strategic thinking, manipulation, and the art of emotional deceit. Victor had learned from the best. His father, a man deeply entrenched in the shadowy world of organized crime, had mastered the art of bending reality to his will. A master chess player, he treated people like pieces on a grand chessboard, moving them at his whim, always six steps ahead. Victor had absorbed these lessons like a sponge, his young mind eagerly soaking up every tactic, every subtle nuance of control.
Battles with his father have left their scars, trailing off Victor like a snake's entrails as they slither through crowded streets, scanning for their next meal. They probe the aura of each passerby, tasting their energy, yet to their disappointment, they find no juicy, dirt-filled sponge of pain and suffering. They taste desires, yet nothing hits just right. Empty husks, devoid of the essence they crave. Living memories enshroud him in a cloud of black smoke, a spectral fog visible only to a witch. A demon, masquerading as a homeless man and muttering incoherent whispers, feels the snake's embrace tighten around him. He halts abruptly, turning to Victor with a knowing gaze. 'I see you,' he murmurs, 'Such discipline and composure may deceive the others, yet it's only a matter of time before they find you.' The homeless man continues his walk, pulling a black suitcase along, his tattered white shirt contrasting sharply with his black suit, and no tie to complete the ensemble.
Victor makes no comment, his mind a labyrinth of dark intentions and calculated moves. He viewed the world as a malleable entity, something he could shape and twist to suit his needs. The streets, the people, the very air he breathed; they were all part of a grand, intricate game where he alone held the key. He had no qualms about using others to achieve his goals, seeing them as mere tools in his grand design. It was a dangerous philosophy, one which required constant vigilance and adaptability. As he moved through the throngs of oblivious souls, he could almost hear the whispers of their deepest fears and hidden sins. The scars trailed behind him, living entities of their own, reaching out hungrily, desperate for a morsel of genuine suffering. Yet the city, with all its noise and chaos, offered little more than hollow echoes and fleeting shadows. Traces of happiness. Lost children in the never ending void of their own desperation. Victor's eyes flickered with a cold, calculating light. He was a master of this urban jungle, a predator in search of worthy prey. The demon’s warning lingered in his mind, yet it only fueled a burning hunger. He thrived in the shadows, where power and control were his for the taking. Each step he took was a step closer to his ultimate end goal, a twisted vision of dominance, only he could see.
In the distance, the city’s lights shimmered like false promises, yet Victor knew better. Beneath the surface, in hidden corners and forgotten alleys, darkness mirrored his own. In this abyss, he felt certain he would find what he sought: the true essence of his own hunger, the raw, unfiltered energy he could devour. Victor thrived on the underestimation of others, reveling when people perceived him as lesser. Such perceptions made his manipulations appear as innocent mistakes, acts of ignorance and oblivion. His favorite targets: those with inflated egos, individuals convinced of their invincibility.
"A person with a big ego is like an orgasm," he often mused, speaking as if to his shadow. "It's just so easy. Their first mistake: telling me we're not equals. Afterward, they reveal all the buttons and levers in their psyche. They hand me their own weapon on a silver platter, asking, 'Victor, please send me to meet Anpu. Please show me the gates of my own demise.' Their insanity begs to be freed from this curse of societal norms. Always the first mistake, then the rest follow." Laughter echoed from the snakes twining around Victor. As he whispered these musings, the words ensnared a group of Venezuelans nearby, inciting them into a frenzy of violence without understanding the spark. Victor watched, casually tossing a silver dollar their way as if to say, "Welcome to the sanctuary," his smirk a shadow under the flickering streetlights. He calls to the boys, 'there now before you boys get into trouble remember this, you're only seeing the lions teeth, yet you haven't seen what triggered it.' They stared at Victor, startled, as he bid them farewell with a two-finger salute from his left temple and continued wandering down the street.
A drone sliced through the air, its camera lens capturing the serpentine twists of the Chicago River below. Victor, watching its flight, was transported to his youth, to days spent cobbling together a demonic owl from discarded household trinkets and an owl decoy. He would pilot this macabre creation through his neighborhood, a spectral puppeteer orchestrating nocturnal ballets which both delighted and unnerved his unsuspecting audience. A sinister grin unfurled across his lips, a shadow's whisper, as memories of those simple machines mingled with the sophisticated arsenal he commanded today. In the digital age, Victor had become a maestro of manipulation, his tools refined yet no less mischievous. Social media platforms were his stage, targeted advertisements and spoofed numbers his actors, each one playing their part in his grand, deceptive symphony. With the deftest touch, he planted seeds of doubt, spun webs of misinformation, transforming allies into adversaries, stitching chaos into the fabric of daily lives with mere whispers masquerading as shouts. His schemes were crafted with such subtlety, woven so seamlessly into the warp and weft of reality, that his victims believed themselves architects of their own undoing.
The crowning jewel of his current machinations was a prototype drone, a whimsical homage to the contraptions of his youth yet imbued with the precision of modern technology. This drone, engineered to navigate from the chilly confines of his refrigerator to the steamy oasis of his rooftop hot tub, was a testament to his technical acumen. Crafted to be mended with mere baubles from any corner hardware store, it stood as a symbol of practical genius, a playful yet potent emblem of his enduring craft.
Victor glimpsed a universe of possibilities within this project, each drone a seed from which new opportunities might bloom. "Perhaps I could craft a model for a dive shop in Australia," he mused. "A sentinel to monitor the slow dance of decay among the coral reefs." Such a gift could forge pathways, perhaps even secure an internship, an opportunity to wield his 417 subclass visa before its flame flickered out. The prospect of traversing Australia's vast landscapes, of weaving his influence through uncharted territories and minds, sparked a thrill within him. Beyond the realm of circuitry and code, Victor possessed a profound mastery over the human psyche. He had the uncanny ability to read individuals, to delve into the murky depths of their insecurities and desires. With the finesse of a sculptor, he could mold a woman’s perception, convincing her of a soul-deep connection, crafting mirages of perfect compatibility. Yet, for all his prowess in the art of deception, Victor adhered to his own strict code. He eschewed physical violence, never staining his hands with assault; his dominion was the mind, his influence woven through the delicate fabric of psychology.
In Chicago's suffocating underbelly, Victor's father regarded him not with paternal concern, rather with venomous animosity. Their relationship was a battleground, devoid of affection or empathy, cloaked threats masquerading as concern. "Victor, if you don't see a psychiatrist, I'm cutting you off," he declared, his voice a cold hiss, a deeper wish for Victor's demise lurking beneath. Victor's laugh, hollow, echoing through the night, a sound devoid of warmth, knew well the true nature of the psychiatrist and the deeper machinations of his father's cruel intentions. His father viewed him not as a son, yet as a nemesis, a presence he wished to erase from existence. Surrounded by the oppressive cityscape, Victor stood alone atop his building, the L line screeching past, the lights below mere distant, watchful eyes. "Tomorrow, I bend reality once more," he whispered into the void, his voice merging with the cold wind sweeping the rooftops.
The relentless pursuit of his father's malice shadowed him into the darkest city corners where shadows moved with intent, whispering of ancient, sinister forces. Here, in the corner of his eyes an oozing of black liquid drenched an alley, a tar monster, a grotesque manifestation of the city’s darkest secrets, its gnarled face and gleaming teeth mirroring the twisted relationship endured. Against a backdrop of a city thrumming with malevolent energy, Victor pondered the fragile line between delusion and reality. "It's only delusional till it works, so is it really delusional?" he mused aloud, his words dissipating into the night where the distinction between madness and genius blurred by darkness.
Retreating from the alley, his figure melded into the shadows, each step deliberate, burdened with the weight of a cursed legacy. He was acutely aware of his dual role, both manipulator and pawn in a grander, more malevolent game, a game orchestrated by forces predating the city itself. Every movement influenced by the sinister energy pervading Chicago, a legacy of corruption and darkness intertwined with his own existence. Victor understood his every action overseen by the ancient entity had taken interest in him, an entity finding delight in his struggle, offering protection at a dreadful cost.
Emerging from the shadows back into the flickering city lights, Victor found no solace in the illumination yet his smile stretched reaching his eyes showing his gleaming razor sharp teeth. These lights did not offer hope only humor; they were beacons of a foreboding reality. He resolved to continue bending reality, wielding the cursed power both protecting, ensnaring him, and pointing out the irony of his situation. Day after day, he would play this dark game, a master of deceit entwined with an ancient force more profound and sinister than any could fathom.
With one final, lingering look at the alley where darkness reigned supreme, Victor Kane laughed, a hollow echo fading as he stepped into the nearby pub. Inside, the warm glow contrasted starkly with the night's chilling embrace, yet the shadows seemed merely to lurk at the edges, waiting. At their usual spot by the worn bar, he found Billy Smith, his old high school Basketball teammate, with two pints of beer ready. They clinked glasses, the sound slicing through the hum of conversations around them. "To the unexpected," Victor intoned, his voice laced with a hint of irony. As they settled into the rhythm of their catch-up, the conversation inevitably turned toward the unfolding news, the war in Ukraine, an event that had caught the world off guard.
"No one ever saw it coming," Billy remarked, his tone a mix of wonder and concern.
Victor's eyes flickered with a dark amusement, and raising his glass again, he offered a toast, this time in Latin, a language that carried the weight of history and secrets. "Ad profundis malorum," he declared, which translated to 'To the depths of evils.'
Billy paused, the words hanging between them like a veil being slowly drawn back to reveal a hidden scene. The toast was enigmatic, resonant with Victor’s acknowledgment of the chaos brewing both near and far, a chaos that, perhaps, only he could navigate.
As the night deepened within the grimy confines of the pub, where every corner whispered of misdeeds and the air hung heavy with the scent of stale beer and lost hopes, the laughter and chatter provided a deceptive cover for the profound game silently playing in Victor’s mind. His cryptic toast, "Ad profundis malorum," echoed a darker undertone amidst the jovial noise.
Across the bar, a woman with long jet black hair and piercing grey eyes watched Victor. Clad in a striking red full-grain leather trench coat, her presence was undeniably conspicuous, yet paradoxically, she remained unnoticed. Despite her short stature, she was fit, her features sharply defined, an attractiveness seemingly almost otherworldly amidst the grime of the pub. Curiously, not even the barkeep spared her a glance, as if she existed in a separate realm, visible only to those she chose to confront. As Billy excitedly shared his plans to open a dive shop with a taco bar on the roof, the woman’s lips moved in a whisper, her voice a soft, clear bell in the din, carrying a dire warning. "I know what you are. We found you." At that moment, a flashback surged through Victor’s mind, a haunting image of a colonial girl he once saw in the Fraser Experimental Forest. His girlfriend at the time had turned to him, her voice tinged with unease. "Victor, do you see what I see? The girl? Yeah, the girl. I can feel something following us. As if it knows what we are yet won't approach, yet I can feel it." This vivid recollection now seemed a prelude to the current moment, a chilling reminder the forces he had glimpsed back then were the same now declaring their presence.
The evening wound down with plans made and stories shared, yet the woman’s prophetic words and the ghostly memory of the girl hung unseen in the air, portending looming confrontations between the light she embodied and the shadow following Victor Kane. As the patrons began to drift away, the shadows reclaiming their territory within the pub, the mysterious woman’s figure faded into the background, her message delivered, her purpose yet unclear but undoubtedly intertwined with Victor’s fate.
The end.

I (M42) and my spouse (F40)
I just had the shock of my life, and possibly the most dramatic upheaval imaginable. I'm scared, concerned and i wonder if anyone else has a similar experience. This is concerning my soon to be ex-wife. Not an easy read or even to type, but strap yourselves in. We were married for 13 years, had known each other for 23. She was a child that grew up in a war in her home country, and was effected by it more than she let on. During the last 4 years of our relationship, she started developing incredible anxiety and depression. She would become like an exposed nerve, and every perceived slight became something she would ruminate on for days at a time. We had some events in our marriage that were incredibly stressful. Our son was born prematurely, our daughter when she was born was also traumatic. She was always highly strung when i knew her. i was very much the calming influence to her and it was a role that developed in our dynamic. i would be her rock and safe place. Things started to change, and dramatically so. I travel with work and she would look after the kids. i would be home large parts of the year, but i would have to go away sometimes for 4 weeks at a time. When covid hit, we were both home for a better part of 18 months, and i started to notice things that concerned me. She began to become incredibly paranoid about neighbours. She was certain they were spyi ng on us somehow (even though they were 80, and not at all interested in us). This spiraled from the neighbours commenting on the length of our grass. It effected her, and she became fixated. Any new neighbours she instantly distrusted, and she believed they all spoke badly of her.none of it was true, but in her state of hypervigilance, she was misinterpreting signs. A strange look, or half glance was enough to make her feel unsafe and scared. This slowly devolved into her being fearful of being spied on in the shower, people who walked dogs the same time each morning past our house were doing it to spy on us, etc. I could see it was draining her, and making her very ill with stress so we discussed maybe going to therapy, which she did. During the years we were together, she had been on various anti-depressants to cope with depression. I always chalked it down to post natal depression and the stress being a mother brought to her, especially when i went away. She attended therapy, but would stop when it became uncomfortable. She then opened up to me one day regarding it. It turns out that she was molested as a child by a family friend, and had buried it. that coupled with seeing her childhood friend die from an explosion (which i knew about) had effected her more than we knew. The therapy seemed to make it worse, and since that point things took a massive nose dive. She was an incredibly bubbly, happy and cheerful person to everyone. or so i thought. She would sometimes drop the mask at home, and i could see the turmoil developing. I hate to admit it, but i was blind to it for many years. she had masked it from the very beginning. Her paranoia got worse and worse. she came off of her antidepressants and started using weed vape pens to be able to cope with the incredible anxiety. I watched her drift apart from me over the last two years, her kindness towards me vanishing and almost a resentment towards me. She would complain about the new house we had bought and that she hated it because of the neighbours. We discussed moving, but she realised in her more lucid times that the issue would follow her whereever she went. The last year together she would speak about moving to another country. I said i would, but after my parents, who are old, passed. i didn't want them to not see our children in their final years. We had grown apart, she had this strange push-pull dynamic with me. One day she'd love me and be this caring person, the next cold and distant. I tried incredibly hard to pull us back together whilst dealing with her delusions of paranoia that were still ongoing, but the more i tried (and at some points i was quite combative and forceful) to get her to communicate, the more she pulled away. There was hardly any intimacy, which i yearned for and would comment on. She would initiate it sometimes, but for me, i'm ashamed to say, i complained about it a lot. She would have sex with me on occasion, and then if we argued later say "i didn't really want sex, it was like rape". This hurt me to my core, and made me bitter about how we were. The arguments became worse and worse. She started resenting me for trapping her. That was her reality. i had trapped her in the relationship. It wasn't true, but she was upset i travelled with work and could escape when she couldn't. It was never escape for me, i travelled because i had to. Her and the kids were all i wanted to be with. Travel to me was a chore.
Slowly she withdrew more. The more i tried to help and talk, the more she withdrew. All the time she was still paranoid, and now believed the neighbours were spying on her with cameras in the garden. the "cameras" were garden lights.
After three years of constant paranoia and her anxiety, it was starting to effect me. We couldn't go out in the area as she hated the neighbours. Yet to their faces she was bubbly and happy, smiley and almost overly kind. Yet when we were alone, the mask would slip and all her thoughts about them would spill out. Our social life started to be affected,
Anything i said was misunderstood or taken in such a way that i was insulting her. If i said she was silly for thinking in a certain way, i was calling her stupid. Anytime i tried to logic something out with her regarding the neighbours (for example she believed they were watching her shower) it was dismissed. I actually showered and told her to ask if she could see me from the garden. She was confused when she saw she couldn't.
The delusions became worse, and she became more and more paranoid. The textured glass in the bathroom was the wrong way around in her eyes, so people could see in. The motion activated light at the bottom of the garden was a camera, for sure. things like this.She withdrew more and more. I had to go away on a work trip, and the day before i left she asked for a divorce. I was hurt, but said "we can talk about it when i get home" when i arrived at the destination i was working across the world, i messaged her. No response. I tried multiple times until eventually i got a text "The kids will be taken away from me, and i will be sent back to my home country" I rang my father who lived very close to us to find out what was happening.
She had asked him to take her to the police station. She said to report the neighbours for spying, which she did try to do. they obviously didn't listen. She was taken to hospital by my father as she was having a mental breakdown and behaving strangely. I told my boss i had to fly home as something was happening. he booked me the earliest flight and i flew back. I was arrested from the plane. She had accused me of Rape, Control and coercion and ABH. Things i would never do. I was arrested, questioned and told not to go back to my home or to contact her. In one day i lost everything. I was in shock and was an emotional wreck. Worst of all i was concerned and scared for my wife and kids. She blamed me for her emotional state. said i had caused everything and had abused her constantly for years. After a week of staying at my friends house, social services got involved as the kids were missing school. It turns out she was taking the kids to hotels because she was terrified of staying at home. The kids told me later that "mummy thinks men are after her" instead of telling any authorities this, she said it was because she was scared of me. Social services believed everything she said. I was under investigation for the allegations, although not charged. The investigations were ongoing for three months, and in that time i wasn't allowed to contact her at all. Unfortunately in my fear i contacted her repeatedly. She had me arrested for harassment, and i was charged and convicted. I wasn't ever abusive in the texts, but i did contact her a lot.
I secured access to my children through a rushed family court order. I also placed a block on her leaving the country without seeking my permission with the children, as she had taken my passport details to apply for the kids passports without my knowledge. I did this due to her erratic behaviour and i knew she wasn't stable. My father thought i'd over-reacted, but my ex was so good at masking she hid how she really felt even to him. Oscar level masking.
Looking back i realise how bad it was. She ran from her home country at 18 and always ran. she always wanted to move jobs if something went wrong. She would cut off long term friends in an instant if she felt any pressure form them. Her first instinct would always be to flee anything. Any littlle insignificant thing or slight would become something she'd chew over for weeks, often applying the worst case scenario that would then become her reality. The truth was she was constantly afraid. I think at the end i became something she was afraid of too. My determination to keep us together and keep her from falling apart became too much for her. I wasn't always kind and was exasperated a lot. I was too demanding on someone that was exhausted, anxious and clearly unwell. Unfortunately i didn't realise this until too late. I still see the children, but have zero contact with her. She filed a restraining order due to the harassment conviction which i will adhere to. I'm currently going through family court again to secure further rights. She applied for full custody and has said some very terrible untruthful things at court to almost destroy me and remove me from her life. I'm a broken man because of it all, but staying strong for the kids.
I hope there will be some sort of resolution in the future, but i realise that she's scared of me now as she is scared of everything. She told me near the end that she trusts nobody. This broke my heart. The court on the last visit realised that something wasn't right. they have ordered a investigation into our family, and it will hopefully be reported in June when we go back to court. Her medical documents have been re-visited and statements taken. My father witnessed some very strange behaviour and has reported it. We just have to see what happens. She has requested to sell the property we lived in, and i'm slowly watching the life we built implode. She also has asked for the order that stipulates the need for permission to leave the country lifted. June will be the crunch time.

21. Allegory:
In a fantastical world of your creation, develop a narrative where characters represent abstract concepts or virtues, much like the animals in "Animal Farm." Explore the allegorical implications of their actions and interactions, shaping a story that unveils deeper meanings beneath the surface.
22. Metonymy:
Imagine a society where significant events or decisions are often referred to by a single symbol or representative term, emphasizing the interconnectedness of the people and their rulers. Write a scene where the impact of a metonymic expression plays a pivotal role in the unfolding events of your story.
23. Sarcasm:
Create a character who uses sarcasm as both a shield and a weapon. Develop a scenario where their witty remarks and ironic commentary serve as a coping mechanism in the face of adversity. Explore how this sarcastic demeanor influences their relationships and decisions in a specific setting or situation.

After winning the election, Biden gives a triumphant speech about upholding democracy before ominously shifting focus to the necessity to "restore its integrity by making an example out of opponents to democracy." Secret Service agents then carry a man kicking and screaming onto the stage, his head covered by a black shroud. Biden is handed a large greatsword gilded with patriotic symbolism, including an intricately carved eagle head on the pommel. The agents remove the shroud, revealing Trump. His face drips with sweat as he struggles to breathe, orange makeup smeared across his face. He looks up at Biden with helpless contempt. Biden looks down at him and declares, "Donald, you have disgraced our great nation for the last time. It is with the good will of the American people and the power they bestow upon me that I raise my blade before you, bringing an end to this terrible saga once and for all. Any departing words?" Donald starts to say something but Biden simply laughs and cuts him off, "will you shut up, man" he says as he swiftly brings the sword up and then down, decapitating the former president to the resounding cheers of the American people.